Oh, blogging world! How I have missed you. How I have longed to check and see if any of my beloved bloggers have posted. But not to worry! I am here! And here's how I got here: I broke into my Mom's house. (Hi, Mom.) Well, not really broke in. I just used the code on their garage door, plopped my three-year-old angel snooky pops in front of "Max and Ruby" ('cause that's just the kind of awesome mother I am) and sat down, cracked my knuckles (metaphorically speaking) and started to write.
We got rid of our computer.
Isn't that wild?!?
We just decided to do it one day. Then we worked up the courage for the next three months or so.
And now we are computer free.
It's been... quiet. Lots of reading time at night rather then blog stalking or checking to see what is happening in the all-important worlds of ksl or people.com. It's kinda been nice, actually. We don't have t.v. and the DVD in our bedroom is broken, so most nights the Double B is playing the Nintendo DS and I'm skim reading until the coma takes me under, and we chat. Sitting right next to each other. How about them apples!? I have even been forced to write in my own personal journal a time or two. Usually I just save that for the "small plates" type of thing (thank you, Elise, for that brilliant metaphor), but I was desperate. I'm not sure if I have mentioned this, but I'm carrying a child. The only real struggle is that I am an addicted blogger seeking treatment, so that's the thing that's been tricky-licious. But guess what! We bought a new family car! That means WE ARE NO LONGER A ONE-VEHICLE FAMILY!!! This could be the most exciting thing to happen this spring. So I'll be able to come and break into my mother's house more often. Do you see the links sparking in my brain? Because I do.
I have to tell you this story, because as soon as it happened, I was sad I couldn't immediately share it. So: the other day I was helping Olivia in the potty. That is because she is a little tiny bit addicted to wiping, and once she has wiped, she just throws the toilet paper to land where it will. Now although this is sorta charming to watch, it's not so charming to come across after the deed. So I was helping with the toilet paper situation when she put her hands on her hips and says "Mommy, I would like some pirate-seas." I sat there for a minute. "Do you mean you would like some privacy?" To which she responded "Yes, Mom. I would like some pirate-seas now. Please go in the other room!" I thought that was quite excessively charming. I sometimes want pirate-seas in the bathroom, too, but as we know, that goes against every natural law.
Does I make you uncomfortable with all this bathroom talk? I hope not. It's just a fact of life, my friends. We all gotta go.
The other night for young women's it was a class activity, meaning I got to have the laurels (16-18 year old girls) over to my house for a "very exciting" planning meeting. I did not realize we only had two activities that actually needed to be planned for the next three months because there are so many group activities coming up! Haha -- oops. But the good news is, they still got red velvet cake (thank you, Costco) and strawberries (thanks, Costco, again) and we discussed the intricacies and complications of boys, how one girl hated me at first 'cause I made her put away her cell phone but then I apologized (I then informed her that that was then, now I'd just put out my hand and say oh-so-lovingly "hand it over, Bozo."), and waxing our eyebrows. You should know this about me: I HATE TO WAX MY EYEBROWS. You should also know this about me: I HATE TO PLUCK MY EYEBROWS. Luckily for me, one of my beehives introduced me to this little eyebrow razor that is a marvelous invention. But still, I'm not as faithful as I should be. And I kind of have wild eyebrows, too. Here's a little tid-bit: In the 10th grade, my science teacher told me I was a genetic freak because I have blond hair and dark eyebrows. He said that is extremely unlikely. I went home and told my mom 'cause I thought "Cool! I'm a genetic freak!" But she almost went and ripped out that man's jugular. She thought it was very inappropriate of him to call her daughter a freak. For this and many other reasons, I love my Mother. She is a great lady, and when called upon, an exceptional Mama Bear. It is, in fact, true that my hair is quite blond for reaching this ripe old age and my eyebrows are dark brown. I don't dye them, as I have been repeatedly accused since childhood. I got it from my great-great-Grandmother Caroline (pronounced Car-line). She was world-famous (okay -- town famous) for her blond hair and dark eyebrows. Little did she know her great-great-Granddaughter would have the same genetic freakism. I'm rather happy she gave it to me. It's like it was hibernating all this time. Maybe MY great-great-granddaughter will have it, too!!! Although, that is a little unlikely, since the Double B is totally dominating the genetics right now. I don't get it -- I thought mine were so powerful? I do have to admit, though, I think there was a strictly primal part of myself that did marry my husband for his exceptional genes.
We're painting our walls.
Here's the problem with gall-bladders: I don't like the whole pulsing "guess what, I'm here!" thing going on at all times. Apparently this is quite common. I have this little fantasy that I give someone a baseball bat and they whack it as hard as they can into my right side. It doesn't hurt. In the fantasy, it makes a little popping noise and everything is all better. This is sort of like growing pains for me. When I was a kid, my legs would just scream (it was a really weird noise, too). So I would imagine someone taking a pocket knife and sawing my leg off. Or, if I had a bad headache, I'd imagine inserting a plastic tube (like the ones that came on the pencils out of the machines -- I really liked the smell of those pencils) through my brain, twisting, and removing the hurting section.
I don't know if I should have told you all that, but -- I did. I'm not a violent person, either. If anything, I am a "give peace a chance" type of girl. So it's interesting, I guess. At least I only imagine hitting myself with a baseball bat, and not a neighborhood pet or anything. And I think we'll leave it at that, for all of our sakes. Interesting.
I was reading today in the Book of Alma. It is pretty much my favorite part of the whole Book of Mormon. Well, everything from Abinidi converting Alma the Elder in the Book of Mosiah through where I am now -- Alma the Younger just finished preaching to the Zoramites and is now giving his sons his two-cents on what they need to do. I just love the Alma's, Mosiah, and the Sons of Mosiah. And Amulek, well -- I think he's pretty much my Book of Mormon best friend. Last night we had a leadership meeting and our ward (congregation) got recognized for our girls reading The Book of Mormon in two days. It made us feel pretty good, I'm not going to lie, because it was a lot of hard work. Totally and in every way worth it, though. We're now in Alma 35, planning to finish on June 19, just in time for Girl's Camp.
I have now written everything that has been flying through my head this morning. It is now empty. Thank you for listening, and good night.